


faster than a bullet

by 9_miho



Series: blue (white) caravan [1]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Ghost Tadashi, Hiro Needs a Hug, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_miho/pseuds/9_miho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gogo likes the stretches of time when everyone is asleep and she can really listen to Baymax beneath the soles of her boots and against her gloved palms.</p><p>(A driver's need for speed that can't outrun ghosts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	faster than a bullet

Gogo likes the stretches of time when everyone is asleep and she can really listen to Baymax beneath the soles of her boots and against her gloved palms. She refuses to baby Baymax; Wasabi and Hiro do enough fussing at every scratch on Baymax’s pale shell, at every gasp and sputter that threatens mutiny over sand in the carburetors or ick in the fuel line.

 

But when everyone’s asleep in the main body of the rig, even Wasabi from the rear turret, she listens to Baymax and a ghost. It’s not just the speed then, not that she would ever admit to anyone. There is warmth and the memory of warmth, the happy rumble of an excellent pair of engines and the echoes of someone’s laugh, the wheel in her grip and the touch of someone’s fingers.

 

Gogo likes speed, the roaring laugh of engines, the jolt in her bones and singing so sweetly in her veins like the strings on Fredzilla’s guitar. She likes being one with an engine and wheels and frame between her legs when she hands the wheel over to someone else and takes out one of the cycles until she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she’ll take a drink of guzzoline with her dinner biscuit (dry but somehow still good, how does Honey Lemon do it?) and breathe out fire and smoke and purr purr purr **growl**. She’ll go fast and no one will chain her down, fill her up with sick babies that will die or will kill.

 

She’ll go so fast that she can find them the places where you could see something, anything other than the fucking sand or the rocks or salt crystal meadows. Because there has to be something, anything, because the world is going to be that way for them, them who ride to the horizon on a metal skeleton found in an Old World graveyard of big buildings crumpling to rust and filled up and fleshed out with engines and fuel and beauty. They’ve done it for so many days, even though maybe they’re paying a lot for each day and it will be extracted from them later but no one thinks about it or talks about it, not when they are with Baymax and the bikes and the new things each of them come up with from scavengings and gifts and they are _powerful_.

 

Once, Gogo wanted just speed. She wanted to be a bullet, not a flower (once upon a time she’d had hair that reached her waist because they’d whipped her feet and taken away anything with an edge from her and even then she nearly set her head on fire to get rid of the weight. Then she had a sheet of dark dark hair and they’d said it was prettier than an oil slick and called her “Oilbloom”). She’d told herself that she’d flee as soon as nothing held her down, be it chains or people (the ones who tied her down with sweet words or brute force, same difference).

 

Now Gogo still is a fiend for speed but there’s something else to it. She’s not just getting away, she’s going _somewhere_ ( _their_ place). And that’s different from being like, being like- being like one of the painted things in the “nature book,” _birds_. Because she’s carrying others with her and they’re flying and protected and strong enough to keep flying when others would try to keep them down (“clip their wings to prevent flight”). Because she has a promise on her hands and etched on her heart in battery acid, a gift and something that has to be paid back with something more precious than water or guzzoline or chrome. She looks into the back through her mirrors and she tells herself that she’s silly to want to see five back there, not four, even though she’s done this so many times. Then she turns her eyes to the road that she is cutting through the land.

 

“Go, go,” Gogo whispers to Baymax and a ghost and to the sleeping boy in the back and she curls her fingers against someone’s ghostly hands.

 

“Go go,” the past laughs at her and Baymax thrums beneath her feet, beneath her palms, pale as smoke, warm as someone’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Gogo made me tease her out a lot (and I admit to being a bit queasy while I was writing and editing the section about her hair).
> 
> Title is taken from the Superman catch phrase: "Faster than a speeding bullet!" Each of the subsequent shorts will have a title inspired by comics/heroes.


End file.
